Auld Lang Syne
by everybetty
Summary: One shot.  Sheppard wakes in the infirmary.  Spoilers for S3 to be safe.


Carson?

Yes, lad, I'm right here.

Where's here?

Atlantis, son. The infirmary. Your favorite bed, tucked away in the quiet corner.

By the closet.

Och, it's not a closet, Colonel. Well, I suppose it's the Atlantis version of a closet. I prefer to call it a supply room. Just a small one.

Like a closet.

Stubborn as a _Heelan Coo_, you are. Hair like one too, come to think on it. If you were a redhead. Yes, the bed by the supply _closet._

You give in too easy, Carson. Ya big softie. So how did I wind up in my favorite bed? And just because I spend an inordinate amount of time in it does _not_ make it my favorite.

You had a rather nasty run in with a not so wee beastie. Bloody well almost took your leg off. And you always told me it was your favorite.

Are… are we alone?

I… don't see anyone else around, Colonel.

'kay. It is my favorite. If I have to have one. I… I just prefer being in the back. I hate being on display, everyone staring at me while I lie here. Kinda undermines the whole Military Leader thing I've got going.

What? You can't lead men who know their colonel bleeds? Now that's just daft.

I know… I know I'm not perfect- far from it. But all these fresh-faced kids come pouring off the Daedalus. They have no idea what's out there, Carson. They have no idea if they'll return from a mission with their buddies or on a stretcher or in a body bag. And the less they see of what the Pegasus Galaxy can do to the human body, the better. If that means keeping them ignorant then I'm willing to live with that.

But what about your team, Colonel? Surely you don't wish to keep them at bay.

Sometimes… yeah, I do. And don't call me Shirley.

Och, now I know your bloody fever has spiked. Leslie Nielsen, Colonel?

Airplane's a classic, doc.

So. Why on Earth… or Atlantis for that matter… would you be wanting to keep your team away?

…

John?

Because I know what it's like.

What what is like, son?

Sitting by a loved one's bedside. Watching the monitors. Watching the numbers and holding your breath, crossing your fingers every time they change. Watching their face to see if they're in pain. Hoping every time someone in a white coat comes by that the news will be good.

Oh, lad. But that's what family _does_.

I know. And they are. You are. It took me a while to figure that out, but after all this time, forty years into life and I finally got myself a family. Atlantis isn't exactly a cottage with a white picket fence. And we don't have a dog.

But we do have Rodney.

Ha! Yes, faithful companion, would rather be conked out by the fire, happiest when his belly is full. Good one, doc.

And this family has two mothers.

Yeah, I guess we are kinda blessed that way. Kinda stern at times but fiercely protective. And comforting. At least, 'lizabeth tries. And mostly succeeds. Course, Teyla's got a bit of an edge there, but she's got that great forehead thing. Never fails to make me feel… you know.

Aye, I do. Ronon?

Easy. Big brother. Never had one, but if I had- he's the kind I'da wanted. Woulda been nice to have him around, getting picked on all those years in school.

Really? I'da thought you'd have been popular, John.

Yeah…. No. Hardest part was getting them to remember my frickin' name. So many Johns in each school. I'd show up, midterm usually, never really had a chance. Bullies would just call me New Kid. I'd finally make a friend, find a group to hang with for protection. We'd up and move again. Best were the foreign base schools. At least if they spoke English you could be pretty certain they were military brats, too.

So that leaves dear old Dad.

That's easy, Carson. You've got that hands down. You were made to be a dad. Wee bairns collected at your feet as you pass out sage wisdom. You can tell them stories of your great adventures in a far off galaxy and how you saved a friend's life on more than one occasion.

Och, now you're embarrassin' me.

Nothing to be embarrassed about, Carson. You may not have the years, but you have the bearing of a father. Stern and scolding you have down to a science!

I am _not_ stern and scolding with you. Although, you can get my blood pressure goin', I must admit.

Relax, Carson. I'm not sayin' I don't deserve it… most of the time. I mean, a man can only lay in bed for so long before visions of Steve McQueen and his baseball have him plotting motorcycle theft.

You and your Great escape plans. Och, if I had a dollar for every time I found your IV catheter dangling in the breeze… I'd own my own Shetland isle.

The Shetlands? Really. Kinda cold there, ain't it, doc?

Oh, aye. But it's beautiful, lad. Puffins and petrels thick as fat on a mutton chop. And the fishing. Och, the fishing is brilliant. The seas have cod and haddock and whiting. But the lochs. Oh, the lochs have _lochisles-_ the prettiest trout you've ever laid eyes on.

I'll uh, take your word for it, doc. So that where you'll retire to?

Och, retire. You ready to ship me off to pasture already, lad?

No. Not at all. We need you here, Carson. _I_ need you here. Who the hell else is gonna patch me back together when _not so wee beasties_ get the better of me?

Dr. Keller is a fine physician. I hand picked her myself, cream o' the crop.

Oh, I'm sure she's great, Carson. She seems to know her way around a syringe- last couple shots I got almost didn't hurt. But she's not you.

No. No, she's not, John. But I hope, should you ever need her help, and I'm not around, that you'd pay her and ME the respect of recognizing she's competent and I trust her with the CMO position. She's probably got a little New Kid thing goin' on herself.

I… I never thought about that. We are kinda tight knit. Must be kinda hard fitting in as the newbie.

See? Now I think we've talked long enough, John. Your fever is quite high. Just relax… rest. Can you feel the cool breeze from the fan?

Yeah.

Good. Close your eyes and rest. You have a lot of healing to do. But you will, lad. Just trust in your family.

You leavin', doc?

Me? Hm. I think I might go fishing. Take care, son.

* * *

"Is he…" Rodney tapped his finger on his chin and darted another look at the curtain that separated them from Sheppard. "How high IS his fever?"

Dr. Keller sighed, her youthful face furrowed in concern. "It's still almost 106. We've tried just about every antibiotic we have, including the ones Carson had cooked up for other pathogens he'd encountered."

"Just about every does not mean every!" Rodney snapped. His posture suddenly slumped and he collapsed into the chair. "Sorry. I know you know that. It's just…"

"I know, Dr. McKay."

"Call me Rodney. We're all… you know. Family."

* * *

Okay. So this came about because I am in the midst of another SGA fic that's kicking my butt, and I was working out an infirmary scene while I was pumping gas. Yeah, I think of fic when pumping gas, don't you? Anyway, this hit me, but it wouldn't fit in the current one. It's been a while since I posted a fic on my own- so long, I was beginning to fear I'd forgotten how to write on my own without a partner. So if you should some day ( oh, please it HAS to work itself out ) come across another fic of mine and think this scene is a little reminiscent of it, or vice versa, then you're right. I have yet to decide if any of my future fic will take place after the events of Sunday. The single greatest mistake a show has ever made, IMHO…they lost its heart. And its Dad.


End file.
